Bought His Life (9 page)

She replayed the last few moments in her head, trying to figure out how she’d ended up kissing him. Then she remembered. She didn’t kiss him. He’d kissed her. And that wasn’t the worst part. The bastard insinuated that she liked to be forced.

Motherfucker.

Her anger was enough to snap her out of her shock. Screw protocol. The paperwork would be worth her next move. After all, this wasn’t a typical visit to a local hangout. She reached into her jacket and pulled her gun. Raising it high, she fired three shots in the ceiling.

The only sound in the bar was the fading echo of the last shot she’d fired. Nobody spoke, nobody moved. The five men sprawled on the floor looked up at her.

Kimber waved the gun. “Gentlemen, meet Bertha. She’s a good friend of mine and a real bitch. If things don’t go her way, she gets angry, so I suggest you do whatever she tells you. Does everyone understand?”

The men nodded.

“Good.” She aimed the gun at Lawson. “Get up. Slowly.”

He rose to his feet. “Kimber, I think—”

“Oh, what was that, Bertha?” She cocked her head toward the gun. “You want Lawson to shut the fuck up?”

Lawson zipped his mouth but stared at her with eyes that promised retribution.

She shook her head. “Bertha doesn’t like attitude, not even the non-verbal kind. Now turn around and put your hands in the air.”

He did, thankfully, without a challenge. Kimber could tell how it irked him, the corded nerves popping down his neck were a dead giveaway, but he’d get over it.

She addressed the rest of the crowd. “Bertha and I will be out of your hair in a minute, and everything can go on as normal. But until then, Bertha asks that you all stay put. The three of us will now leave the building. Cool?”

She scanned the room. All heads nodded. She gazed at the four bikers on the floor. Raising her eyebrows, she indicated that she wanted a second guarantee from them.

“Yeah, we’re cool,” one muttered.

With everyone in agreement and no one blocking her way to the front door, she grabbed her carryall off the floor and signaled for Lawson to move.

“We’re not leaving out the front door,” he informed her.

Why did he have to be a stubborn asshole?

“Hey, Lawson, ever play Simon Says?”

“Yes.”

“We’re going to play a game like it, but this one is called Bertha Says.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t play games.”

She took three long steps toward him, thus allowing him a closer look down the barrel of her gun. “Now it’s I who begs to differ. You will play this one.”

He turned back around, his large hands, still in the air, balled into fists. He was such a typical man. Just couldn’t accept that he wasn’t in control of the situation, or of her.

She tsked. “Are you angry? Are you imagining what you’ll do when you finally get a hold of me?”

Lawson stiffened at the remark, and for a split second, her bravado actually faltered.

Fuck it. She’d shoot him if she had to.

“Lady, you’re one crazy bitch,” commented the smelly biker sitting on the floor.

“Yeah, you don’t know the half of it.” She took another step forward and pushed her gun into Lawson’s back. “Bertha says walk straight.”

To her surprise, he did. She thought for sure it’d be a fight to get him to do her bidding, especially after that show of obstinate behavior he’d tried to pull.

Keeping the gun pointed at his shoulders, she followed closely as he made his way around fallen tables and toppled chairs. She was almost disappointed that he’d caved. For a moment, she thought she’d met her match.

Truth be told, she liked Lawson, though she had no clue as to why. Despite all the annoying things he’d done since they’d met, she felt a certain affinity toward him.

“Bertha says turn left.”

In the blink of an eye, he took a quick step back, grasped her outstretched arm with one hand and gave it a sharp twist while he snatched the gun away with his other.

Shit.

Retaining his crushing grip on her wrist, he practically dragged her to the exit.

“Let go!”

He acted as if he didn’t hear her.

When he reached the door, she pulled back with all her weight. “Stop!”

He came to an abrupt halt but didn’t release his hold. Instead, he leaned into the nearby booth, grabbed his hat, and placed it on his head. Turning back to the door, he kicked it open and jerked her onto the sidewalk.

As soon as they cleared the threshold, he fired at a black Hummer parked in the lot. Window glass shattered.

“What the—”

Lawson dragged her to the Mustang and wrenched her carryall from her arm. Fishing out her keys, he opened the passenger door, shoved her in and threw the tote at her before slamming the door. He fired at the Hummer’s tires as he went, then placed the gun in his waistband, got in the driver’s seat, started the ignition and sped out the parking lot.

Kimber turned around to see if anyone followed. The Hummer had appeared empty when he’d shot it up, but she couldn’t be sure.

“What is going on? Did you just kill whoever was in that Hummer? Or were you merely venting your frustration on some random empty vehicle?”

He didn’t acknowledge her questions much less give her an answer. But he drove through the streets like a maniac, barely braking on the turns.

“Slow down. You’re going to get us killed.” Why she bothered telling him that, she didn’t know. If anything, she should be praying for the cops to show up and save her from the gun-toting lunatic who had just kidnapped her.

His sudden stunt made her see Lawson in a whole new light. He was a very sexy bad guy. Damn, it was kind of a turn-on.

She immediately scolded herself for thinking something so stupid.

He glanced in the rearview mirror then lifted his foot off the accelerator.

“Where are we going?” She held her breath and waited.

No response.

She folded her arms and stared out the window. “What are you going to do with me?”

Again, no response.

And here she always thought she would die at the hands of some punk kid drug dealer. “Are you going to kill me?”

“No.”

Chapter Nine

They turned into the parking lot of the Flaming Flamingo. Instead of parking with the other cars, Lawson proceeded down a small graveled alleyway that led to the back of the motel and an area fenced in on three sides. He maneuvered her Mustang next to a tarp-covered vehicle and turned off the ignition.

Once he exited and slammed the door, Kimber opened her door and bolted for the parking lot, but he must have expected it, because he snagged her by the arm and dragged her to the motel’s back entrance. She thought about screaming, but who would hear over the party going on in the pool area?

Once inside the lobby, he threaded his fingers into hers. It was odd to share such an intimate gesture with a guy that had kissed her then kidnapped her. But even odder than the handholding was the fact that after all that had happened, she still liked him. Actually, she really liked him. Lawson’s sudden caveman antics felt right.

She really had issues, and if she made it through this alive, which she thought she would, she’d go straight to the office shrink and have her head examined. No—not the office shrink. Just a shrink.

He led her to the doors of the small patio bar. “Smile,” he ordered, letting their joined hands rub against the gun still lodged in his waistband.

Getting the hint, her lips curved up slightly.

They were just about to go out when a man in a grass skirt carrying an umbrella drink came in.

“Lawson! I thought it was you. I’m so glad you made it! And in one piece, too. Wait, are you getting a black eye?”

Lawson laughed off the question. “Hello, Michiel. I need a room for the night. A private one. Happen to have any left?

Michiel looked Kimber up and down and grinned broadly. “Believe it or not, I do. I know my motel doesn’t look like much, but I actually have a small honeymoon suite open.”

“You know I’ll pay you as soon as I—”

“Yes, yes, I know. I trust you,” Michiel replied, swatting the air with his hand. “Now let me get you that key.”

They followed Michiel to the desk. Within moments, he handed Lawson a small punch card with the picture of a rainbow on it. “Your room number is seven. Try to stop by the bar later. The celebration will be going on all night.”

Michiel hurried back toward the party, then turned one last time and gave a knowing wink. “Have fun.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.”

Once Michiel was gone, the old asshole Lawson came back. His smile turned to a frown, and he dragged her out of the lobby.

“What are you going to do with me?” she asked as they headed to the motel room.

He opened the door and shoved her inside.

The room looked like an old style brothel. Deep red carpet, classical paintings on gold striped walls, purple velvet curtains and a matching bedspread on a king-sized bed, mirrored ceilings, a small Jacuzzi…

“Drop your pants.”

“What?” Kimber turned to see him locking the door.

“Take your pants off. Now! Or I’ll do so for you.”

Holy shit. “Why? You going to spank me?”

“Yes. For your own good. You need this,” he growled. “You have no sense of self-preservation, and a sore behind may be the reminder you need to take care of yourself.”

Seriously?

He turned and faced her. Removing the gun from his pants, he leaned against door and stared her down, his gaze unwavering. “Kimber, you will do as I say.”

She must have lost her mind because she found herself slowly removing her jacket instead of telling the asshole to fuck off and simply walking out the door. It was obvious that his intent wasn’t to cause harm, just to gain control.

Kimber let the jacket drop beside her, followed by her shoulder holster. Then her hands went to the strings holding up her pants.

She paused and looked into Lawson’s eyes. She knew she should fight him, defy him, but some depraved part of her wanted to see how far he would go with his insistence.

Would he really hurt her?

His eyes, his facial expression, his body posture and his demeanor told her that he was more than pissed, so it was a possibility. Yet her gut instinct didn’t think he would do anything to truly hurt her. He wasn’t pointing the weapon at her. It lay slack in his hands.

“You’re taking too long.”

Never breaking eye contact, she untied the strings and let the pants slide down her hips. They pooled at her feet. She stepped out of them, knowing that her lace thong provided little cover.

In a flash, he had a hold of her upper arm. Dragging her to the bed, he collapsed on it and slung her over his lap, belly down. Then gave her a stinging smack with the palm of his hand.

“You will never, ever—” He punctuated ‘ever’ with another smack. “Do anything that foolish…” Smack. “That childish…” Smack. “Or that dangerous…” Smack. “Again. Do you understand me?”

Breathless, Kimber couldn’t offer an answer. He was actually spanking her ass. Staring at the red carpet, she tried to come to terms with what was happening. What the relief in her gut meant about her?

Another resounding smack landed, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. With her ass cheeks burning from the previous series of spankings, the latest hit really smarted.

“Let me up now. I’m a grown woman.”

“You don’t act like one,” he retorted. “You play dangerous games with the mentality of a child. You have no sense of responsibility, of consequence, or of survival. Why? What is wrong with you?”

Her eyes filled with tears and blurred her vision. Oddly, she wanted to tell him the truth, tell him why she was the way she was, so careless with her life—her safety. She was so tired of carrying the dark secrets of her life alone.

But why tell him something she’d never told anyone?

“Nothing is wrong with me. I do what I need to do to get things done. This is who I am, and who I will always be. This is me.”

She waited for the next stinging sensation to form on her poor bottom, but it never came. Instead, she heard him sigh.

“Who are you really, Kimber?” he whispered.

Tears spilled from her eyes and dripped onto the rug. “Why do you care? You don’t even know anything about me.”

He pulled her off him and drew them both to a stand. Grabbing her shoulders, he shook her. “I don’t know why, but I care! You scared the hell out of me tonight. You could’ve gotten killed. And what makes me so angry is that
you
don’t seem to care.”

She fought his hold. “I don’t care! I don’t!”

“You’re not pushing me away. I won’t let you. I said I fucking care. I care enough for the both of us. And if something had gone wrong tonight and you were hurt, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

She stopped struggling. “If it weren’t for Em and Jen, I would’ve put a gun to my head and pulled the trigger years ago. I hate myself. I hate who I’ve become. And if you knew the truth, you’d hate me, too.”

“No, I’d never hate you,” he groaned, fitting his arms about her and gathering her against his hard body. “Look at how ridiculous you make me after knowing you for less than a day. I have no idea why, but you make me crazy.”

No longer able to hold it in, she crumpled beneath the weight of her sorrow, but he caught her in his strong arms and gathered her closer. For the first time in years, Kimber welcomed the heat and security of another body.

She took a ragged breath. “I just want the pain and the guilt to stop.”

“Tell me,” he whispered as he smoothed his fingers in her hair.

“He’s dead because of me.”

“Honey, who? Who’s dead because of you?”

“My husband.”

Chapter Ten

Lawson sucked in some air and rested his chin on the top of her head. He’d never imagined she’d say that, but she wouldn’t be the first wife to do such a thing. He was telling the truth when he said it wouldn’t change the way he felt about her. Who was he to judge? He’d killed so many people in his life, he dripped with guilt.